


Our Time Together: December 2019 Good Omens Ficlets

by Stormz369



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Advent Calendar, Angel Crowley (Good Omens), Awkward Flirting, Awkwardness, Bah Humbug, Bathtubs, Christmas Lights, Christmas Party, Christmas Tree, Comfort, Crowley Created the Stars (Good Omens), Crowley Has PTSD (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Decorating for Christmas, Demon Summoning, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Diary/Journal, Disjointed stories, Disney References, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Engaged, Families of Choice, Family, Ficlet Collection, First Christmas, Gabriel is a jerk (Good Omens), Inspired by A Christmas Carol, Letters, London tree lighting, Love Letters, M/M, Mentioned Freddie Mercury, Non-Linear Narrative, Office Party, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pre-Fall (Good Omens), Prose Poem, Santa's Workshop, Saturnalia, Scene: The Bookshop Fire (Good Omens), Snow, Stars, Summoning Circles, Through the Years, Wishes, Wishful Thinking, christmas through the years, inspired by twas the night before christmas, not a creature was stirring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:40:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 15,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormz369/pseuds/Stormz369
Summary: My collection of stories for the December 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge! Tags will be added as they become relevant.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97
Collections: 2019 Advent Ficlet Challenge





	1. Snowflake

Crowley was wide eyed in horror. It had gotten quite cold over the past few months. That was bad enough, and he had burrowed into the ground to nap for a while, but now? Now, it was raining. Frozen rain. Frozen rain that was building up around him! What was this shit???

He tried to shift back into his human form, or miracle himself away, but he was stuck. He could feel his body stilling, and the frozen rain settling on his back. This was ridiculous; discorporation by frozen rain! He would never live this down. His mind slowed, and the world around him started getting dark. He was vaguely aware that he should be panicking, but he was so tired… so cold.

The next thing he was aware of was a warm presence, surrounding his entire body. Instantly he jumped toward the heat, wrapping his body around it.

"Oh! Well at least let me get you wrapped up." Crowley blinked sleepily, slowly realizing what -or rather who- he was wrapped around: Aziraphale. The angel from the wall. The angel who was now wrapping his coat around him. 

He constricted around his warm torso, shivering hard. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and they materialized in a small hut.

Crowley squinted at the hearth, nodding his head at it. The angel chuckled and started a fire, smiling softly. "There we are. We'll have you warm in a tick."

He sat by the fire, letting Crowley curl around him. The snake slowly wound himself tighter around him.

"What isssssss happening?" He hissed softly.

"Ah, the weather. Apparently they're calling it 'snow'. It's supposed to be a seasonal thing." The angel smiled. "It will pass."

"It'sssss awful … I feel like my entire body issss trying to ssssseizzze up." He frowned, rearranging himself around Aziraphale. "Sssssstupid weather…"

The angel pet the top of his head gently and miracled up a thick blanket, wrapping it around them both. "It will be alright. Just stay inside with me, ok?"

Crowley frowned, nodding. He glared into the fire while Aziraphale pulled out some snacks. "Issss it sssssupposed to be thissss cold?"

"Oh yes, very much so."

Crowley sighed, still shivering. The cold had seeped into his bones, and he was not warming up easily, despite the extra warmth from the angel's chest.

Aziraphale sat in front of the fire all night, nibbling on snacks and stroking the demon's scales. Crowley slowly dozed off, coiling up in the angel's lap. Around dawn, he finally shifted back into his human form. His joints popped as he slowly stood, groaning.

"Feeling better then?" Aziraphale smiled, offering him a strip of dried meat. Crowley sniffed it and wrinkled his nose, handing it back. 

"... Why'd you save me?" Crowley frowned.

"Oh … well … it seemed the right thing to do. I am an angel, after all. It's my job to protect and care for all beings on the earth."

Crowley squinted at him, a bit suspiciously. "Alright then…" He cracked the door open, glaring at the swirling white flakes. One landed on his hand and he glowered at it, watching it melt on his skin.

Aziraphale grinned, looking outside. "It's pretty, isn't it? All those delicate flakes, clinging to each other to make those huge mounds of snow. It's incredible…"

Crowley frowned, looking over his shoulder at Aziraphale's bright smile. His frown melted away and he turned back to the snow.

"... I guess it's not completely terrible." He smiled softly, shutting the door and returning to sit by the fire.


	2. Wish

~February 12, 1940~

"Are you not excited? I think it will be rather lovely! I've heard excellent things." Aziraphale grinned.

Crowley rolled his eyes affectionately. "I'm sure it will be fine."

Aziraphale pulled him along, getting their tickets to the newest Disney film: Pinocchio. He was nearly as excited as the children around them. He loved the magic and joy of it all. As they settled in, Aziraphale nibbling on his popcorn happily, the opening credits began.

Crowley was less excited than his angel companion, but he liked seeing Aziraphale so happy. He smiled softly at the contented little wiggle Aziraphale did when he was extra happy.

Crowley watched Aziraphale's hand resting on the arm rest beside them. How he wanted to hold that hand. They rarely touched anymore, what with cultural norms changing. Prudish humans, ruining his opportunities to touch his angel… But, it was rather dark in this theater. And who would know?

Well, Aziraphale would know, and he might not miss the contact. Crowley frowned, considering his options. His hand shook as he inched toward the angel's hand, his pinky barely grazing Aziraphale's before he pulled away again. Aziraphale looked down at Crowley's hand, and after a moment he reached out and took it.

Crowley flushed and looked over. Yellow eyes met blue before they both stared at the screen, not really focusing on the middle of the movie. Aziraphale gently squeezed his hand, smiling softly.

~~~~~~

"So, what did you think?" Crowley smiled softly, hands clasped behind his back as they walked down the street.

"Ah, I loved it! Especially the music, just lovely, don't you think?"

"The music?"

"Of course. Especially the song during the opening credits. It was so … hopeful. I felt such … peace, and joy. Didn't you sense it?"

Crowley frowned. "Of course not. Demons don't sense such things."

"Ah. Quite right." Aziraphale frowned, looking around the park they'd found themselves in. "... But you enjoyed it, didn't you?"

"Sure, it was fine … ridiculous notion, of course, but that's to be expected from humans."

"I beg your pardon?" Aziraphale tilted his head; "Ridiculous notion?"

"Yeah, wishing on stars. Stars aren't magic. I would know, I built them." Aziraphale stopped dead in his tracks at that.

"... I'm sorry, you did what?"

Crowley stopped and turned back toward him. "I built the stars? Before … everything. I never mentioned that before?"

Aziraphale shook his head, wide eyed and mouth agape. "I … that's incredible!"

Crowley shrugged and kept walking. "It's really not a big deal, Angel."

Aziraphale blinked a few times, following along. _'Not a big deal???'_

Crowley glanced at him and sighed. "You're freaking out."

"It's just … you built the stars! A- and you don't like how much the humans enjoy them? They look up and find … awe, and hope, and inspiration. And in that sense, they are magic … You made something beautiful, a lot of beautiful things. That's incredible."

Crowley blinked a few times. "... I never really thought about it like that … But it's still ridiculous. Stars don't grant wishes."

Aziraphale chuckled. "Well, they can dream."

Crowley nodded, looking down to hide his smile. "I guess."

~~~~~~

Later that night, in two separate London flats, an angel and a demon each looked up at the north star. Their perspectives on the great glowing balls of gasses had radically changed over the course of the night. Where Aziraphale had only seen the emotion humans attributed to them, he now saw his best friend's artistry, and he thought they were the greatest works of art in the physical realm. Crowley had only ever seen the work and material of his greatest achievement, his achievement which was stolen from him when he Fell. Though, like any artist, he still thought that one galaxy should have been a few thousand lightyears closer to the earth, and that star was too far to the left. But now, after hearing Aziraphale's pure joy over them, he was starting to understand the poetry and love people seemed to find in their flickering lights. That night, the stars finally felt like his stars again.

From his favorite reading chair, Aziraphale stared up at the stars, a secret wish in the back of his mind; one he dared not give words to even in his mind. If his superiors caught wind of it, there would be serious consequences, and not just for himself. But in the back of his mind, it just felt so right.

In his plant room, Crowley leaned against the window, staring at the sky. He smiled softly, remembering the excitement in Aziraphale's eyes when he talked about them.

"... What the heaven?" He shrugged, whispering to the star; "I wish I could spend more time with Aziraphale, without worrying about being caught, or him Falling, or anything else."

He watched the star glow, constant and unchanging. He knew it was just a ball of gas. But even so, he felt somehow safe, telling the star his greatest wish. Almost like it was listening, like it cared. He knew it wouldn't grant his wish, but if the humans could dream, couldn't he?


	3. The More the Merrier

"I can't believe you talked me into this." Crowley sighed. "Who all are you inviting?"

Aziraphale grinned, looking up from his shopping list. "Oh, just a few people, not to worry! Anathema and Newt, and Adam and his friends. And of course, their parents will come."

Crowley frowned. "That's a lot of people."

"It's thirteen. That's hardly a lot. And you promised." Aziraphale frowned slightly.

Crowley sighed softly, looking into Aziraphale's sad eyes. "... Alright, alright Angel. Just for you."

"Thank you, Darling!" He beamed and kissed his cheek before turning back to his list. They were throwing their first Christmas party together, and he wanted it to be perfect.

They took the invitations down to the post office, and on the way home they stopped to pick up decorations. Aziraphale planned to go all out; garlands, candles, mistletoe, and a huge tree covered in ornaments, tinsel, and lights! Aziraphale loved it all, especially now that Upstairs wasn't keeping an eye on him. In years past, he had always been sent a strongly worded warning about his penchant for 'needless miracles' around the holidays. But now, he was free to do as he pleased!

All day he used small miracles to make people happier around London. By the end of the day, he was glowing with joy. Crowley smiled softly, watching him. Normally he might cause some minor mischief, but he couldn't stand to see anything make the day less than perfect for his angel.

Back at the shop, Aziraphale began decorating the tree. He meticulously wrapped lights, placed each ornament, and draped tinsel around the tree.

"Darling, would you like to place the star?"

Crowley chuckled softly, and pulled out the tree topper. Aziraphale grinned, plugging in the lights. "Beautiful. This party will be absolutely perfect!"

~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks passed, and Aziraphale was getting ready for the party. "Darling, I think I ought to let you know, I invited a few extra people to our little party tonight…"

Crowley raised an eyebrow. "A few?"

Aziraphale nodded. "Just a few, nothing to worry about." He beamed.

"Who all is a few?"

"Oh … you know, Mr. Johnson, and the Hansen's, and a few others."

"Who the fuck is Mr. Johnson?"

"Oh, he sells rare books. Always gives me the first look at his new selections. I must have mentioned him before."

Crowley sighed. "Right, right. And the Hansen's own the bakery on the corner. Exactly how many more people did you invite?"

Aziraphale smiled weakly. "Well … ten."

"Ten?" Crowley sighed. ".... Seriously, Angel?"

"Well … Tis the season, right?" Aziraphale smiled sheepishly.

Crowley stared him down for a moment before smiling softly. "Sure. The more the merrier. Isn't that what people say?"

Aziraphale grinned and kissed his cheek. "Thank you, dear~"

Crowley kissed back softly. "Sure. But New Years is going to be just the two of us. Got it?"

Aziraphale chuckled and nodded. "Just the two of us, promise.~"

Crowley smiled softly, letting the angel lead him downstairs. They greeted their guests as they arrived, and though it was a bit overwhelming for him, he did so love to see Aziraphale happy. And all these people seemed to make him happy, so it couldn't be all that bad.

Aziraphale introduced everyone, and they began playing party games. Newt was surprisingly good at charades, and Wensleydale's parents won the Christmas movie guessing game. Anathema, Mr. Hansen, and the Them sang Christmas carols after a few rounds of games. Crowley was surprised at how well near strangers were getting on, like they'd known each other for years. At the end of the night he and Aziraphale bid everyone a safe journey home and a happy Christmas, and Aziraphale gave everyone their Christmas gifts to take home with them.

As they shut the door on the last guest, Aziraphale sighed a content little sigh, and looked up at Crowley happily. "So, dear, was that so awful?"

Crowley smiled softly; "Oh, shut up." He elbowed Aziraphale in the arm playfully, leading him back into the flat.

Aziraphale smirked and kissed his cheek, humming softly to himself. "Admit it, you had fun!"

"Alright, alright. It wasn't the worst party. It was … it was good, alright?"

Aziraphale grinned and wiggled happily, wrapping his arms around Crowley's neck. He was already planning next year's party in his mind.


	4. Lights

-December 1947-

Aziraphale gasped softly, looking up at the huge tree in front of him. It was unfathomably large; over twenty meters tall. Crowley watched Aziraphale's face as he took in the whole thing.

"So, Angel? Is it everything you hoped it would be?"

Aziraphale grinned. "It's incredible." He looked over at Crowley, a bright look in his eyes. "Aren't you glad you came with me tonight?"

Crowley nodded and smiled softly, looking around. "I have to admit, this is pretty nice."

Trafalgar Square was packed with people from all over the country, waiting for the tree lighting. Norway had sent the tree as a thanks for England's help during the war, and everyone wanted to see it. All around them, people were singing carols and sharing hot drinks and candy canes. It was the most beautiful thing Aziraphale had seen since a certain demon had saved his books a few years prior.

Everyone was so happy, so at peace, the entire square seemed to be alive with it! Aziraphale was practically glowing surrounded by all the good will and joy in the air. And Crowley was enjoying all the national pride. The Norwegians had really found an impressive way to display their gratitude, and the Lord Mayor and the royal family were certainly making a spectacle of it.

Aziraphale gasped softly and grabbed Crowley's arm as the ceremony started. They listened to the Lord Mayor of Westminster's speech; the anticipation and excitement were palpable. The button was pushed, and the entire crowd let out an awed; "Ooooohhhh!"

Lights covered the tree, bathing the entire crowd in their glow. The angel blinked at the sudden light, sighing happily at the cheers around him. Everything was so perfect, so beautiful. Aziraphale was certain that this was exactly what everyone needed after the constant despair and fear they'd all been subjected to in the years before.

The choir began to sing, and Aziraphale grinned, looking around. After a moment, he took a deep breath, pulled his aura into a focused ball in his chest, and snapped his fingers. All around them, people felt lighter. The world was just a little bit better, and their worries were a bit further away. Later that night they would literally miraculously find presents from Santa on their doorsteps, letters from loved ones in the mail, and £1 notes under the dining table, presumably fallen out of a purse or wallet. Aziraphale beamed, thrilled by his little act of rebellion. Tomorrow he would get a letter from Upstairs, condemning his 'pointless miracles', but for tonight he could be happy knowing he had done some tangible good for his community here on earth.

Crowley smiled softly, looking up at the twinkling lights. He'd never seen so many lights on earth. He slid his glasses further up his nose, pressing them firmly against his face. Aziraphale smiled softly, gently squeezing his hand.

"Everything alright, dear?"

Crowley nodded awkwardly. "... This is just … really …"

"... Nice?"

Crowley frowned a bit and nodded. "Yeah, that."

Aziraphale grinned, looking around. "It really is lovely."

-December 2019-

"How many years has it been, darling?"

Crowley looked up at the huge tree, smiling slightly. "Seventy two."

"Seventy two … and somehow they just get more lovely every year. How do they manage that, you think?"

Crowley shrugged; "Humans can be very clever, when they're showing off." He smirked.

"Oh, you!" Aziraphale chuckled and gently shoved him. "They're not showing off, they're showing their gratitude! It says so right there on the plaque!"

Crowley smirked down at the angel. "Yes, yes. Gratitude, fine."

Aziraphale smiled brightly as the ginger kissed his forehead and whispered; "But they're still showing off."


	5. Wind

Paper, in any form, was one of Aziraphale's favorite things that humans had invented. He loved the texture of papyrus, and the smell of old books, and the anticipation of receiving a letter. He loved stories, and drawings, and paintings, and even business records. Humans had a certain desperation to hold onto the past, to their histories, and so they invented the written word, and paper, and recordings, and video. It was stupendous. And paper was the best part of their determination to know all they could.

Aziraphale had rapturously learned every writing form he ran across. He had detailed records of every business arrangement he'd ever been a part of, every assignment Upstairs ever sent down, the major events of every year, he even kept a detailed journal. Being so long lived, it was easy to become overwhelmed by his thoughts, and he found it helpful to put everything on the page where he could sort them out. Thus, he was known to pull a notebook and fountain pen out of thin air, without so much as a moments notice, and start writing or drawing. Thus, on a bright winter day, he was clutching his journal on a park bench and sketching a particularly brave squirrel while he waited on a certain demon.

"What in the world do you put in that thing?" His lanky friend sprawled across the bench beside him, trying to get a look at the book.

Aziraphale snapped the book shut and tucked it into his jacket. "Anything I please. Now if you would, it's for my eyes only."

Crowley sighed dramatically; "Rude angel."

Aziraphale chuckled and wrapped his coat around himself. "I don't stick my nose in your private affairs, I'll thank you to extend me the same courtesy."

"... Fine, fine … it's a bit windy for my taste, you want to go inside? Lunch on me?"

Aziraphale smiled and nodded. "Oh, yes! There's a new cafe down the road we could try."

Crowley nodded, gesturing for him to lead the way. The plump angel smiled warmly, tugging on his waistcoat as he stood. Crowley offered him his arm, and the angel gladly took it, leading him toward the cafe. He gently pat the back of his hand, squeezing his arm softly.

"I'm so glad you agreed to join me, my dear. I've missed our … rendezvous."

Crowley's eyes darted toward Aziraphale's shoes. "Ah … me too, Angel …" 

He smiled a little, letting the angel go on about how wonderful this cafe was supposed to be, and how terribly he'd missed seeing him. After a while they arrived at the cafe, and Aziraphale pulled him toward a table. He allowed the angel to order for him, smiling softly at the excited look on his face.

"What have you been up to, dear? It's been so long since we talked."

Crowley shrugged; "This and that. Bit of mischief, bit of sin. The usual."

Aziraphale smiled slightly. "More coins on the ground?"

"Of course not. I ruined everyone's Wi-Fi connection for the next few hours."

"I'm sorry?" Aziraphale frowned.

Crowley grinned. "I'm actually quite proud of this! I just completed a regional attack on London's internet links."

The angel blinked,a blank look on his face. "What … what exactly does that mean?"

"They're all trying to connect to the internet through one link now! It's a bottleneck! Don't you see?"

"So, … it's like if too many people tried to go through a door at the same time?" Crowley nodded excitedly. "Oh! That is quite clever, dear. People will be quite frustrated. Well done."

The angel smiled softly. He wasn't supposed to approve of Crowley's work, but he found it somewhat endearing that the ginger demon was more interested in causing low level nuisance than any actual harm.

"Thank you!" Crowley was thrilled someone at least seemed to understand why what he had done was useful to the bosses Downstairs.

Aziraphale chuckled, eating happily. Of course, it was less amusing when the waitress came over to tell them their register was currently not accepting credit cards since the Wi-Fi had all but stopped working, but a quick angelic miracle later there was cash on the table, and they headed out.

"Stupid … how does that always happen? How do I never see that coming?"

Aziraphale chuckled, patting his back. "It's alright dear."

"Well, anyway. Oh, I found something for you." He snapped and a small book appeared in his hand. He handed it to the angel, who gasped softly, carefully examining it.

"This is … this is a first edition copy of Ulysses. It's one of less than a thousand copies! It's … it's signed?!?!?!" The angel trembled slightly. "H- how? How did you -?"

"Found it in a thrift shop," he shrugged, hiding a smirk. "Don't freak out, Angel."

Aziraphale grinned and hugged him tightly. "Thank you!"

Crowley blushed and smiled. "Ok take a breath, Angel."

Aziraphale took his hand, holding the book carefully. "I'll have to take this home to examine it more thoroughly. W- would you like to come over for a drink?"

"Sure." Crowley shrugged, trying to act nonchalant.

They made their way toward the bookshop, the angel grinning the whole way.

"Ah, it's getting a bit blustery!" He held his coat closed.

At his door he handed Crowley the book, along with his journal, so he could get his key out and unlock the door. He took the books back from Crowley, but as they changed hands a gust of wind knocked the journal open, and loose pages flew down the street. They both stared at the flying pages before running after them.

It took a few minutes, but Crowley eventually got annoyed running after the elusive sheets and remembered that he could just miracle them into his hands. With a snap of his fingers, all the sheets were gathered. Aziraphale panted hard, coming up beside him.

"O- oh .. Right, that … that would have been the smarter thing, wouldn't it have? Thank you, dear boy. I'll just take those …" he reached for the sheets, but Crowley pulled the paper away from him, staring at the word before him.

"A- … Angel?" Crowley whispered. "What the fuck is this?"

Aziraphale paled when he realized what was on top of the pile.

_Dearest Azira,_

_I must thank you for your kindness and gentle words in your last letter. I am of course disappointed, though not at all surprised by your answer. Your companion must be truly special to have so thoroughly captured your heart, and I wish the two of you all the best. I do so hope for you that he is all you believe of him, though I must admit to a belief that such a man cannot be of this earth. If he genuinely is all you've said, you have certainly found one of God's chosen few, and must make your intentions known with haste._

_Needless to say, shall he ever prove unworthy of your devotion, I will always care for you. You have been such a comfort to me, these past few years, and I will always love you for that. Indeed, I care too much for you to allow another man to take you from my life. If you will allow it, and if I have not already ruined all chance, I will be content to remain your friend._

_Fondest wishes,_   
_Your ever hopeful friend_

"Angel, who is this? Who sent you this?" Crowley frowned.

"Th- that's mine. Give it back!" Aziraphale snatched the papers out of his hands, pressing them to his chest.

"Who's this companion? Who sent the letter?"

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

"Who's worried? I'm not worried. Who is it? You don't have any 'companion', I'd know!"

"Please stop…"

"What is this, Angel?"

"J- just stop, you … you obtuse serpent!" Aziraphale was shaking, staring at the sidewalk. "Please, just drop it!"

Crowley froze, mouth agape. Aziraphale had never spoken to him like that before. "... Tell me. What have you been hiding from me? Who is this 'companion' of yours?"

"Oh for goodness sake, it's … it's you!" The normally pale angel was bright pink. He couldn't even look in Crowley's direction.

"… I … me? … This … this is about me?" Aziraphale nodded shakily. Crowley flushed, awkwardly stepping forward. His hands trembled as he took Aziraphale's hand, staring at the ground. Aziraphale blushed and looked up at him shyly.

"... You … you're not angry?"

Crowley shook his head, staring at the ground. "... Could have just told me though…"

Aziraphale blushed and chuckled shakily. "Yes well … nerves and all …"

"We don't have nerves…"

"... I do around you." Aziraphale smiled a little at the flush creeping down Crowley's neck, and gently lead him inside the shop.


	6. Angel

Crowley blinked lazily, slowly sitting up. He stretched out, humming softly, and slowly rose to his feet. Other angels were draped over fluffy pillows, still sleeping; it was early, but Crowley had work to do. He started walking through the clouds, the only indicator that he was even moving was the sleeping angels' in the distance behind him. Eventually he stopped and held his hand out, slowly opening a hidden pocket in the universe. He stepped inside, and the light around him instantly went out. He was alone in this part of existence.

With a slow breath, he pulled his current project from the ether. Two stars slowly spun around each other, as they emerged; they would be eternally tied to each other. With a flick of his wrist, he added new chemicals to the pair. One became bright yellow, growing in size, as the other burned orange. They shifted around each other, growing closer. They were nearly complete. He pulled up the map of his stars, plucking the pair out of the space in front of him, and carefully placing them in their designated place.

As they flickered onto the map, the air around him crackled with another angel's energy. He snapped his fingers, letting the other into the room. Aziraphale grinned, stepping inside.

"You're getting an early start today." He wrapped his arms around the taller angel, resting his head on his shoulder.

Crowley smiled softly, running his hand through the blonde curls. "I wanted to finish this."

"Can I see it?"

Crowley chuckled and gently tapped the stars, flicking his wrist up. The pair appeared in front of them, spinning slowly around each other. Aziraphale grinned, watching them. Crowley smiled softly, turning toward him.

"You like them?"

Aziraphale nodded, squirming happily. "I love them! You make such beautiful things for Mother."

"... Mother didn't ask for these ones … these ones are for you."

Aziraphale blushed bright red; "For … for me?"

Crowley nodded and stroked his cheek gently; "A pair of stars just for you. My angel.~"

Aziraphale giggled softly. "We're all angels, silly."

"Yes, but you're mine, and I'm yours. Right?"

Aziraphale teared up and nodded, cupping his hand on his cheek. "Right. You're mine, and I'm yours. Forever."

Crowley smiled and kissed him softly, holding him close.

~~~~~~~~

Crowley groaned softly, shifting in his bed. He sighed softly, blinking the sleep from his eyes slowly. He frowned, balling up his pillow in his arms. He loved sleep, he loved dreaming. But dreams that were memories, memories he should have been able to share with his angel, were just sad.

Aziraphale should have had these memories too. Crowley should have been able to call him up and they could reminisce together. But Aziraphale didn't remember. Fallen angels remembered their time before the Fall; it was part of their punishment. But those still Above had forgotten everything from before. All they knew was that their fellow angels had betrayed them.

When Crowley realized this, on that wall so long ago, he didn't know what to do. His angel had forgotten him. They were back to square one. Or really, square zero, or some negative number; he wasn't a fellow angel anymore. So they had to restart, and he had to be patient. Really, really patient.

Thousands of years passed, and eventually Aziraphale was willing to be his friend. They were slowly returning to their old normal. But Aziraphale didn't remember their old normal, and Crowley didn't know if he ever would.


	7. Ashes and Soot

Every year, on the night of the first snow, Aziraphale read A Christmas Carol. It was his favorite seasonal tradition, especially since Crowley had begun to join him. Crowley loved Aziraphale's readings. The angel had such an expressive voice, he was certain it was the best way to hear a story. He sprawled out across the couch, waiting while Aziraphale made cocoa.

Aziraphale hummed to himself in the kitchen, mixing the perfect cocoa. He set two mugs of it on an antique silver tray, along with a plate of ginger snaps and carried it into the living room. He got everything settled and started a fire in the fireplace. Crowley sighed softly, laying his head on the arm rest.

"Come on Angel, read already."

Aziraphale chuckled, just glad the demon was so invested in any story. He sat in his armchair, pulling a cozy blanket over his lap, and slid his reading glasses on before cracking the cover. After clearing his throat, he began to read, periodically looking over to the mass of red hair on the couch. He couldn't have said whether Crowley was awake or not, but he kept reading either way.

Crowley was awake, eyes shut, just listening to his Angel. He couldn't hear anything else, just the smooth, calming voice. As the story went on, he started to become more aware of the fire. The crackling sound started to join the angel's voice. Then the smell, the hot, burnt woody smell, took over his senses. His eyes shot open and all he could see was flickering orange and yellow. The air was sucked out of the room, and he was alone in a burning bookshop, screaming for his best friend. Ashes filled the air, clinging to his skin. The oppressive heat sent him spiralling, and then he was falling, burning and melting in a pool of boiling sulphur. He couldn't die, he wasn't allowed that relief, he just kept burning.

"Crowley! Crowley, darling!" A voice cut through the heat. A hand on his cheek pulled him out of the sulphur, back to the bookshop. The fire was once again in the fireplace and nowhere else, but he still couldn't breath. With a shaky snap of his fingers, it went out.

Aziraphale frowned, gently brushing his hair out of his face. "What's wrong? Where did you go?"

Crowley blinked slowly, shaking. ".... N- no more fire. I don't ever want to see a fire in this building again ..."

Aziraphale smiled weakly, nodding knowingly. "Oh. Yes, of course dear. No more fires."

He kissed his forehead, gently cupping his cheek. The demon leaned in, fingers tangling into Aziraphale's coat.

"I … I thought I'd lost you."

Aziraphale nodded, holding him close. "I know. I'm so sorry, dear boy. I never wanted to put you through that."

Crowley sighed softly, pulling him closer. "D- don't let go."

Aziraphale shook his head, gently helping him to sit up. He sat beside him, gesturing for him to lay across his lap. Crowley sighed softly, resting against the angel's plush lap. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and colorful lights were strung around the room, twinkling gently. Crowley looked around at them, confused.

"Seemed like a good time for a change." Aziraphale grinned and kissed his forehead.

Crowley flushed softly and smiled, nodding. "Nice. Looks good."

Aziraphale nodded and opened his book, reading aloud to the demon in his lap.


	8. Warm Bath

London was at a near standstill. The entire city had been blanketed in snow overnight, and citizens were being encouraged to avoid travel if at all possible. This was all just fine with the planet's sole celestial inhabitant. Aziraphale was happy to close the shop for a few days; maybe he could try to replicate the crepes from his favorite Parisian cafe again. He was sure he very nearly had it!

He was just settling in for the afternoon when he felt something … off. He reached out with his energy, searching for the problem, when he felt it. His demonic counterpart, the Serpent of Eden himself, had gone outside. Today, of all days. The angel sighed and snapped his fingers, appearing on the street. The lanky demon was leaned against a building, shuddering.

"What exactly was your plan here? Didn't you see the news?" Aziraphale took him by the arm, pulling him close as he returned to the shop.

Crowley gasped softly, his entire body convulsing with the cold. "Th- thought I'd sssstay h- h- here. W- warmer here."

Aziraphale sighed and lead him to his bathroom, turning on the bath. "Take your clothes off."

Crowley's eyes snapped up to look at Aziraphale, shocked until he realized what the angel meant. He shakily shrugged out of his jacket, leaning against the angel. Aziraphale helped him into the tub, letting him get settled before he went to the kitchen to get a cup. He began pouring water over the demon's trembling shoulders.

"You could have miracled yourself over here. Why did you decide to walk?"

"You asked me not to just show up on your doorstep anymore." Aziraphale groaned softly. He remembered that argument. Gabriel had commented on the evil feeling around the shop, left over from Crowley habitually miracling himself into the shop.

"Well … you can do it when it would be dangerous to come over the human way, ok?"

Crowley nodded, the trembles slowly dissipating. "Don't want you to get in trouble..."

"You let me worry about that." Aziraphale gently tilted Crowley's head back and poured warm water into his hair, delighting in the content sigh that escaped the demon's throat.

"Now, you warm up in here. I'll make tea." Aziraphale set the cup aside for Crowley and snapped his fingers, drying and warming the demon's clothing before he shuffled into the kitchen.

Crowley spent a few minutes enjoying the warm bath before he joined Aziraphale. He took the steaming mug the angel offered him, sighing softly. Aziraphale wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, and they sat on the couch together to enjoy their snow day.


	9. Festive

For a long time, Aziraphale hadn't celebrated Christmas. Upstairs had a somewhat dim view of the celebration, what with its pagan origins. When he brought up the celebration during his yearly check in, Gabriel had some rather unangelic words for him about it. Aziraphale didn't see what the problem was, it was a lovely holiday that brought people together during a time of hunger and cold. But Gabriel had been quite clear, and so Aziraphale did not celebrate.

His first December in the bookshop, Crowley came over to discuss their arrangement. He stopped cold at the door, looking around inside.

"... Haven't gotten around to decorating?"

Aziraphale frowned, pulling him the rest of the way inside and shutting the door firmly behind him. "Decorating?"

"For Christmas? Surely you're going to decorate? Isn't the point of having a shop for you to be able to be part of a community?"

Aziraphale shifted uncomfortably, tugging on his waistcoat. "Yes, well … not everyone celebrates Christmas."

"Hanukkah then? That should be coming up too, yeah?"

"It is … but it's not for us. It's for them."

Crowley frowned; "are you telling me you're not allowed to participate in human holidays?"

Aziraphale cleared his throat; "it's been discouraged."

With that, he ushered Crowley into the back room to discuss things.

For years, that was the end of their holiday conversation. Aziraphale continued to ignore the holidays, to his own chagrin, and the shop went unadorned. Until one year, when he was reshelving a few books and discovered a bit of garland draped across a bookshelf. He didn't remember purchasing it, or putting it up. When he turned around, there was more of the same garland strung around every shelf. He sighed softly.

"Crowley…."

The demon appeared at his name, seemingly summoned out of the ether. He smirked slightly, waving with his fingers.

"Angel."

Aziraphale huffed slightly. "Crowley, are you behind this?" He gestured to his shelves.

"Of course not! I would never have put Steinbeck next to Golding." 

"You know that is not what I meant. This, this … frippery. If my bosses think I'm celebrating a human holiday -"

"For fucks sake, you're like a paranoid schizophrenic. They won't even notice, Angel. They've got better things to worry about than what we do on earth. And besides, you really ought to at least decorate a bit - the humans may start to suspect something if you don't seem to participate in any seasonal festivities. You don't want to have to leave the country for a few decades because you refused to placate the humans expectations, yeah?"

Aziraphale considered this, frowning slightly. "Well … I … suppose if it's just part of my cover … they can't get too angry with me." The corner of his lips betrayed the grin he was trying to hold in, and Crowley chuckled.

"There, problem solved, yeah? Now help me pick a spot for the tree."

"Tree? … Tree???" Aziraphale followed the demon as he began scoping out a good place. With a glare, some shelves and a table jumped out of the way, and he snapped a tree into existence in their place.

"Crowley, I cannot have a symbol of … of pagan frivolity in my house!"

"It's what the Christians do too nowadays, Angel. You need one. Relax, it's fun, and you're not going to get in trouble for trying to blend in."

"B- blending in … yes, just blending in…" Aziraphale nodded, letting Crowley thrust a large string of lights into his hands. The demon began winding the lights around the tree, and Aziraphale slowly smiled. "Well … this is rather lovely."

"Knew you'd like it, Angel." Crowley grinned, offering him an assortment of ornaments. Aziraphale smiled, selecting one, and began adorning the tree. As they finished, Crowley presented him with two tree toppers.

"Now, there's the traditional option," he showed him a small angel figurine, "but I thought that might be a bit silly. So we've also got this one. Your choice." He offered him a silver star, along with the angel.

Aziraphale considered them and took the star from his hands, reaching up to place it. They both stepped back, and Aziraphale sighed happily.

"Well … that is rather lovely. Very festive." He glanced at the demon, whispering; "thank you, dear boy."

Crowley smiled and gently took his hand, squeezing softly. "Happy Christmas, Angel."

"... Happy Christmas, Crowley."


	10. Once a Year

~420, AD~  
An angel walked into a bar. This is not the beginning of a joke, it's just something that happened one day in Rome. What made it interesting was that earlier that day, a demon had walked into the very same bar. Said demon had sat down at the end of the bar, proceeded to drink, and had yet to stop. 

"Hello Cra- Crowley. What are you doing here?" Aziraphale sat down, smiling brightly.

Crowley hiccuped and grinned. "Ahz… Zuraphale! Io Saturnalia!" He pushed his mug into the angel's hands. "Drink, drink!"

"Ah, thank you. Though, I believe that is 'feast of the nativity' now." Aziraphale took a sip, and Crowley flagged down the bartender for another mug.

"Eh, Saturnalia was more fun." Crowley scoffed.

Aziraphale chuckled; "I suppose. Well," he set a small box in front of the demon, "Io Saturnalia."

Crowley stared at the box, blinking slowly, and grinned. He carefully opened it, beaming. He slipped his new sunglasses on, looking over at the angel. "Thank you, Angel."

He rifled through his bag, and withdrew a box of his own, offering it to his companion. Aziraphale grinned, unwrapping the small statue - a snake curled up on a rock.

"It's lovely, Crowley, thank you!"

Crowley flushed a bit. "Made it myself…"

Aziraphale grinned, blushing slightly too.

~1316. France~  
Crowley was nearby, Aziraphale could feel it. He marched down the streets of Paris, following his instincts toward his adversary. When he found him, he smiled slightly; the demon was feeding some street children. Of course he was. Crowley's head snapped up and he turned to see the angel. He ushered the children on their way and stood, turning toward Aziraphale.

"Angel."

"Hello Crowley. Been busy?"

The demon scowled; "busy? Are you asking if I caused this famine, Angel?"

"What? Of course not! If you had, why would you be feeding those children? … I mean, you didn't, right?"

Crowley sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "Of course not … got a commendation for it though. Apparently people are committing some pretty high level sins to get food, so … yay us, I guess?"

Aziraphale sighed softly, gently squeezing his shoulder gently. "... It will end eventually."

"Yeah … eventually." Crowley frowned. "... Come on, I've got a few bottles of wine back at the house." He lead the way to the house he was staying in.

They drank and drank, and at the stroke of midnight, Crowley looked up from the floor, mumbling; "happy Christmas Aziraphale…"

~1760, American Colonies~  
Aziraphale stood on a hill, overlooking a small town. He sensed an unworldly presence, and smiled softly, turning toward his companion.

"I was starting to wonder when I would see you again."

Crowley smirked slightly; "missed me, Angel?"

Aziraphale chuckled and passed a small box to him. "I have something for you."

Crowley laughed softly and offered him a paper bag. "As do I."

They stood on a hilltop, opening their presents. An ancient manuscript for the angel, and a silver harmonica for the demon. They sat under a tree together, discussing an upcoming arrangement.

~1800, England~  
"So, this is nice." Crowley wandered through the shop. "... Could use some art though."

"Art? What exactly would you suggest?"

Crowley smiled softly, snapping his fingers. A large painting -wrapped in brown paper- appeared on the angel's desk. Aziraphale walked over and carefully unwrapped it. He chuckled softly.

"The Garden of Eden with the Fall of Man. Reubens and Brueghel … appropriate."

Crowley chuckled. "Thought so."

Aziraphale smiled and began searching for a place to hang his new painting. When he found the perfect spot, he snapped his fingers to place it.

"Lovely! Ah, and I have something for you too."

He grinned, grabbing something from the back room. He returned and offered the demon a box. Crowley smiled softly when he pulled out the sleek black coat. The inside lining was red, and it had a red pocket square.

"This looks brand new… I would never have expected you of all people to buy a coat like this for another few decades at least."

Aziraphale smiled. "Well, the man in the shop said it was the latest fashion. Do you like it then?"

Crowley grinned, slipping it on. It fit perfectly, Aziraphale had made sure it would. "I love it, Angel. Thank you."

~1991, Scotland~  
Aziraphale took a deep breath, shuddering. The despair in the air was palpable. He pushed the door open, stepping into the dark pub. Queen's "The Show Must Go On" was playing rather loudly, so loudly that the demon in the back corner had to practically shout at the bartender when he wanted another bottle. Aziraphale would never have realized he was there, if he hadn't been exactly why the angel had come. He took the bottle of whiskey from the bartender, walking over into the dark. He took a seat and poured the demon a glass.

"Go away, Angel." Crowley's voice was thick and scratchy. Aziraphale sighed and crossed his legs, leaning back in his seat.

"I didn't travel all this way just to go back home."

"Leave."

"Not until I know you'll be ok."

Crowley snapped at this. He threw the bottle against the wall, shrieking and hurling every insult he could think of at the angel. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, encasing them in a bubble no one else would bother to look toward. He sat and waited, letting the demon scream and curse and throw things until all at once he collapsed into his seat, arms and face pressed into the table.

Aziraphale gently rubbed his shoulder, bringing the whiskey and their glasses back with a snap. He poured his friend another glass, sighing softly.

"I've been worried about you."

"... Why?"

"Why? … dear boy, you're my friend. You're my friend, and you're hurting, and you … you disappeared." He gently squeezed his arm. "Come on, sit up."

Crowley sighed softly, letting Aziraphale pull him into a proper sitting position. "... There's no point in anything anymore."

"Now, dear, you know he wouldn't want you to think that. He loved life, he would want you to -"

"Don't. Don't try to tell me what he would want, you didn't know him."

Aziraphale sighed softly and nodded, letting Crowley sit and drink for a while.

"... It's not fair."

"No, it never is … I'm so sorry, dear."

Crowley sobbed softly, snapping his fingers. The song started over, and he mumbled along.

Aziraphale eventually lead him out of the bar, taking him back to the bookshop with another quick miracle. Crowley was sobbing softly, singing more of Queen's hits to himself. Aziraphale helped him into bed, using another miracle to help him rest.

In the morning, Crowley blinked awake, glaring at the world. He blinked again, rubbing his eyes. There was a piano in the room. He sat up and went downstairs, frowning.

"... You own a piano?"

Aziraphale looked up and smiled a little sheepishly. "Actually, you do … I … well, I just thought … Freddie was such a dear friend to you. So I … bought his piano for you."

Crowley blinked a few times and pulled the angel into a tight hug. Aziraphale blinked and gently hugged back, gently patting his back.

"Yes, well … happy Christmas, Crowley."

"Th- thanks Angel."

~2019, England~  
Crowley woke up and turned over, smiling softly. Aziraphale smiled, setting his book aside when he realized he was being watched. 

"Good morning."

"Good morning Angel … happy Christmas."

"Happy Christmas dear." Aziraphale kissed his forehead. "Breakfast, and then presents?"

Crowley smirked. "Who said I got you a present?"

Aziraphale giggled. "Well, I have one for you. So …"

Crowley smirked and kissed him softly. "Alright, alright. You can have your present after breakfast."

Aziraphale grinned and pulled him toward the living room, grabbing breakfast pastries from the kitchen. He sat and ate, and Crowley snapped his fingers. The tree lit up, and a bunch of boxes appeared under it. Aziraphale grinned, letting Crowley thrust a box into his hands. They opened their gifts together, curled up on the couch. Quickly, they were surrounded by wrapping paper and gift bags.

"One last thing dearest…" Aziraphale smiled softly, offering Crowley a small box.

The demon carefully unwrapped it, his hand shaking as he snapped open the ring box inside. Aziraphale slipped the onyx and gold ring out of the box.

"Darling, I ... I'd very much like to … formalize our side, as it were…"

Crowley sniffled softly, letting the angel slid the ring onto his finger. "D- damn, Angel…"

He snapped his fingers, and a ring box appeared in his hand. "I … I was gonna give you this tonight at dinner …"

Aziraphale flushed, holding his hand out for Crowley to slide his ring onto his finger. "P- perfect then."


	11. Chimney

"I'm just saying, is all! It's a creepy thing to tell your kids!" Crowley laughed, very drunk.

Aziraphale hummed, nursing a glass of wine. "It is not! It's a lovely myth!"

"Oh? A fat, old man is going to sneak into your house, through the chimney no less, and leave you candy and toys! But don't take candy from strangers. No, no, no." Crowley cackled. "Insanity!"

Aziraphale chuckled softly; "it's about good will toward all people, and being kind, and … and it's sweet!"

"You're a loony, Angel. Positively mad."

Aziraphale laughed softly. "Oh stop. It's sweet."

Crowley laughed softly and continued drinking. They moved on to other topics, and the night wore on. After a while, Crowley looked a bit perturbed.

"... That's not cute, Angel."

"What? I'm talking about fish, Crowley."

Crowley set his glass down, leaning forward. "Not the fish, Angel."

"What then?"

"... Now that's really not cute. I know you're the one making all the noise in the fireplace."

Aziraphale frowned; "noise in the fireplace?"

With that, as if on cue, there was a scratching sound coming from the chimney. Crowley jumped over the back of the couch, glaring.

"Not funny, Angel!"

"Dearest, I swear it's not me!"

Crowley frowned, the sound was getting closer. It nearly sounded like it was in the room. The pair stared at the fireplace, unsure what to do.

"It must be a raccoon or something. I'll just let it out when it comes all the way down." Aziraphale nodded a self assured nod.

Crowley frowned. He didn't think it sounded like a raccoon. The rustling and scratching continued for a moment, until two brightly wrapped boxes fell into the fireplace. Aziraphale blinked, laughing at the absurdity. Crowley frowned and, after some consideration, pulled the boxes out.

"Think they're dangerous?"

"Why would they be, silly boy? Santa came!" Aziraphale laughed, taking the one with his name on it. He shook it, looking more and more like a kid by the moment, before opening it excitedly. He nearly screamed, pulling an ancient manuscript from the box.

"This … This was supposed to have been lost! The last copy was said to be burned in Alexandria!"

Crowley glared at his box, skeptically. He opened it, holding the box away from himself in case it blew up. He sighed when it continued to be a box, then looked inside.

"It's a … cactus?" He pulled it out. The pot had little lumps of coal painted on the bottom, and above them it said 'Be nice to this one, or next year you may be visited by Krampus'.

"Krampus?" Crowley scoffed; "you're not clever, Angel. Krampus isn't real either."

"Dearest, I really have no idea where this came from. If I was threatening you, playfully or otherwise, don't you think I'd be better at it than that?"

Crowley frowned; "then … where…?"

"It's from Santa … I'd be nice to that one if I were you." Aziraphale smirked slightly.


	12. Bah Humbug

Things were not right in the world. Aziraphale, who loved the whole Christmas season, was being reclusive. Crowley could barely get him to go out for lunch with him. And when they did spend time together, he seemed rather sad and listless. The angel hadn't even decorated yet, and it was already December. No, nothing was right about this.

Crowley eventually decided to take things into his own hands. He pulled out Aziraphale's Christmas boxes and began draping a large pine garland across the mantle of the fireplace. Aziraphale walked in as he was placing large red candles in hurricane glasses.

"What's this?" The angel frowned.

"Well, you've been a bit gloomy lately, so I thought I'd bring the holiday cheer to you this year."

Aziraphale smiled softly. "Oh … you're very kind, my dear."

Crowley growled softly; "be quiet."

He passed Aziraphale another garland, and they began draping them over bookshelves, around doorways, and arranging them on tables. Aziraphale hung colorful baubles from them, stringing lights all around.

"So, what's had you all upset?"

Aziraphale sighed; "Gabriel was by earlier. I … he disapproves of the miracles I tend to perform around Christmastime, and he wanted to make sure I knew not to go overboard this year…"

Crowley frowned. "Fucking Gabriel… he's a bastard, and not in a fun way."

"Now, Crowley!" Aziraphale admonished him. 

The demon chuckled and began pulling out the tree. They wrapped lights and hung ornaments, slowly getting more into the spirit. By the end of the night, Aziraphale was downright giddy.

The following day, Aziraphale was working in the shop. The door chimed, and Aziraphale turned to greet a customer. His face fell when he saw it was in fact Gabriel.

"Aziraphale. It seems I did not make myself clear."

"Ah. Gabriel. How good to see you."

"You are an angel, Aziraphale, yet you still choose to become … engrossed in human customs?"

"Ah. Well, it's just … so festive."

"We are celestial beings, Aziraphale. We have no need for festivities. We have divine duties … Do yours. Do I make myself clear?"

Aziraphale gulped and nodded, frowning. "Q- quite."

"Good." Gabriel snapped his fingers, and all of Aziraphale's decorations were gone. He turned on his heel and walked out, letting the door slam behind him. Aziraphale blinked back frustrated tears, taking a deep breath. He sat at his desk, frowning into his lap.

That evening, Crowley drove over again, carrying a bottle of wine. "Angel, I've brought wine! … what's wrong? Why'd you take down everything?"

Aziraphale looked up, frowning. "Oh, Crowley. Good to see you, dear boy. …. Oh. It's just …"

Crowley glared; "Gabriel. That jackass." He snapped his fingers, bringing it all back. Aziraphale sniffled slightly and smiled.

"Ah … thank you, dear boy. I considered doing it myself, but -"

"He'd just come back and yell at you again. Don't worry, Angel." He gently stroked his cheek; "Every time he rains on your parade, I'll send it on its way."

Aziraphale grinned, hugging him tightly. "My hero~"


	13. Family

A small child squealed, clinging to her father's hands. Crowley sighed softly, watching the pair skating on the pond. Aziraphale was going on about a particularly difficult customer earlier, but Crowley had stopped paying attention. The little girl was so excited, so happy. Her instability on the ice was thrilling to her, safe in her father's hands. Crowley frowned, resting his head on his hand.

"Crowley, dear?" Aziraphale pouted; "Aren't you listening?"

"Hm … right, right. People suck, huh?"

"What? Well, I mean she was rather frustrating … darling, is everything alright?"

"Fine, fine." He frowned, still watching the man and child.

Aziraphale looked over and smiled softly. "Are you sure, dear?"

"For fuck's sake, Angel, I'm fine." Crowley frowned. "It's just …"

Aziraphale gently squeezed his hand, hoping to encourage him. Crowley sighed softly; "they seem so happy … that kid trusts her father so much, she knows he won't drop her, or let her get hurt…. She … she doesn't question whether her family loves her."

Aziraphale nodded softly, frowning. "… I think I understand."

Crowely sighed softly, leaning back. "… let's have lunch. My treat."

Aziraphale smiled brightly; "Oh, well that's awfully k-"

"Finish that thought, and the deal's off." Crowley stood, raising an eyebrow.

Aziraphale mimed zipping his lips and hurriedly rose, offering the demon his arm. Crowley chuckled and took it, leading him to the angel's favorite Thai restaurant. They settled in, Crowley with a rather large bottle of lao khao - a rice liquor with a powerful kick. Aziraphale ate happily, periodically murmuring an "Oh!" or "that's simply scrumptious", and Crowley watched.

"Ah. That was perfectly delightful. Thank you, dear boy." Crowley grunted a sort of 'no problem', and Aziraphale frowned slightly.

"Dearest, is anything bothering you? You've seemed rather … down lately."

Crowley sighed; "I don't know … just not a huge fan of this time of year, I guess. All the happy families walking around, and all…"

"Oh … what's wrong with all the happy families?"

"Just annoying … Feels kinda … lonely."

"Other families make you feel lonely, dear?"

Crowley frowned; "It doesn't bother you ever? Everywhere you go this time of year it's all family this and family that, and we don't have families..."

Aziraphale looked rather stricken. "Crowley, you … you really don't feel that you have a family?"

"Of course not. What, you think the other demons are like … like my brothers or something? Think Lord Beelzebub sends out a family Christmas card?"

"What? Of course not, that's not what I … Crowley … it doesn't bother me because I have a family … or I thought so … I … I rather thought you were my family."

Crowley froze, unsure what to say to that. His entire face turned bright pink, and he shakily took in a breath. "O- oh …"

Aziraphale squirmed, starting to stand. "I … I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable… I should …"

"No, no, stay!" Crowley reached toward the angel, blushing more. "… I … I didn't know, but … I like it…"

Aziraphale smiled softly and sat back down, gently taking Crowley's hand. The two sat in silence, and Aziraphale ate his dessert. Crowley smiled softly, watching the angel, his angel, enjoy his treat.


	14. Not a Creature Was Stirring

On the night before Christmas, in a dark London flat,  
Not a creature was stirring, not a mouse, not a bat.  
No stockings were hung, no trees to adorn  
For the demon inside felt rather forlorn.

The demon was curled up tight in his bed,  
But only sad dreams danced through his head.  
Indeed there was no joy, found in his heart  
For winter was hard on his serpentine parts.

But out on the stoop, there was a soft click  
As the front door miracled open with a simple flick.  
An angel stepped in, careful not to make a peep,  
He did not dare to disrupt his demon's sleep.

With a devious glint in his sky blue eyes,  
And a flick of the wrist, a glorious pine did arise  
Already embellished with baubles and lights.  
The angel quickly set everything in the flat to rights.

The stockings were hung, and filled to the brim,  
and garlands strung, so the flat looked less grim.  
Like dear Saint Nick, the angel did try  
To bring joy to his demon, who was a rather swell guy.

He placed ceramic reindeer along the countertop,  
Brought over from the angel's very own bookshop.  
He beamed in delight, his heart and soul aflame,  
As he placed them along, he whispered their names;

"Here's Dasher, and Dancer.  
And Prancer, and Vixen.  
That's Comet, and Cupid.  
And Donner, and Blitzen.  
Rudolph at the front, with his nose so red,  
And the big man himself, in his sleigh being led."

The angel looked about, pleased with his work,  
Then approached the tree, conjuring a sack and a smirk.  
From the sack he withdrew boxes and bags  
Wrapped with ribbons and bows and their names on the tags.

The angel placed and replaced each package with care  
Positioning just so, and fluffing each ribbon with a stare.  
He plugged in the lights, and beamed with joy,  
So pleased with the results of his intricate ploy.

He'd planned it so carefully, the whole Christmas season,  
He was determined to make the demon smile, to give him a reason.  
When he was pleased that everything was right,  
He prepared to go, pulling his waistcoat tight.

A slight squeak at the door, and he froze in concern  
and a voice behind him made his ears burn.  
"Angel? It's two in the morning." The demon mumbled,  
And Aziraphale sought a response, but stumbled.

The demon looked around him, a flush in his cheeks  
He chuckled softly; "this must have taken you weeks."  
Aziraphale smiled, and shrugged slyly;  
"I thought we'd spend Christmas together." He whispered shyly.

Crowley grinned, and pulled the angel to his side,  
And they sat by the tree, Aziraphale beaming with pride.  
"I guess Christmas will start early, for us this year."  
And the angel knew, a new tradition was here.


	15. Midnight

Being summoned hurts. Like something sharp grabbed you by the stomach and pulled really hard. And then you arrive, and it's like all your nerves have been exposed to the air -which is full of ash and dust- all at once. And there's no warning before all this either; so it's rather disorienting, and you almost always breathe in a bit of ash, and end up coughing, making you look rather less impressive in front of some desperate, stupid human. Indeed there was only one thing on earth that Crowley hated more than being summoned, and it was being summoned away from Aziraphale. But now, this human in front of him, had done something worse than that even; she had summoned him away from Aziraphale on Christmas Eve, during date night. Crowley glowered at her, trapped inside the summoning circle.

"You must be truly desperate if you were willing to call on me on Christmas Eve. I'm quite busy tonight, you know… Pretty rude of you." The woman faltered and took a shaky breath.

"I'm here to make a trade, I-"

"You have nothing I want. Goodbye." Crowley waved with a sassy smirk.

"Please! It's my daughter. She's … she's been so sick for so long … I just want her to get better…"

Crowley froze and frowned. "... Your daughter." He chuckled ruefully; "you humans are so predictable."

"Please. I'll give you anything. Anything I have, it's yours if you just save my daughter."

"Isn't this the kind of thing you humans usually ask God for?"

"I … I've prayed and prayed. But God isn't listening … What kind of parent would I be if I wasn't willing to try anything to save my baby? What … what kind of God would give my baby this disease … She has seizures, and her vision has already started going … she's in so much pain, all the time, and it's only getting worse … the doctors say her speech and motor skills will begin to deteriorate soon … and there's no cure, she's going to die. Soon. … and God isn't listening." The woman was sobbing into her hands. She sounded so broken, and Crowley couldn't stop the sorrow that filled his chest. God isn't listening. That sounded familiar.

"... Maybe God is listening. Maybe the answer is no." His voice was thick, with unshed tears and rage he had learned to bury long ago.

The woman looked up at him, his own rage looking back at him in her eyes. "Then He is no god of mine."

Crowley stared her down for a minute. "… I'll do it. And in return, you will … " he sighed softly. He had no idea what to demand in return. But he had to place a price, or he wouldn't be able to fulfill his end of the bargain. "... You'll never tell your daughter, or anyone else, how she was cured. And you won't tell her that God isn't listening."

The woman nodded frantically. "Yes, yes of course!"

Crowley nodded and reached across the circle, holding out his hand. "Then shake on it. But only if you're certain that it's worth the price … God doesn't take kindly to those who make deals with representatives of the Opposition."

She nodded and grasped his hand firmly. Everything around them stilled, and darkness enveloped them. All she could see was Crowley's glowing yellow eyes, and the snake brand curling around their joined hands. It climbed up her arm, flared bright red, and dissolved into her skin. She felt a scream fill her throat, desperate to escape into the night. But every muscle in her body was frozen, and the sound died in her throat. As quickly as it started, it was over, and all was normal again. Crowley was freed as the circle evaporated, the wind rustled in the trees, and she was able to take a shuddering gasp.

"... Thank you."

"Yeah, yeah … Happy Christmas." Crowley waved his hand dismissively, and with a quick miracle was back in the bookshop.

“Ah! Darling, I was so worried!” Aziraphale enveloped him in a hug; “What happened?”

“Got summoned. Desperate humans, you know how it is.”

Aziraphale nodded and stroked his shoulder. “Did you make a deal then?”

“... Yeah.” He sighed and smiled. “Come on, let’s get back to our date.”

The pair curled up, but Crowley couldn’t forget the woman, or her story. And most of all, he couldn’t forget the look in her eyes, or her voice saying; “God isn’t listening.”


	16. Baby, Please Come Home

"Crowley, please. You're being unreasonable!"

The demon turned to fix his golden yellow eyes on the angel. "Oh, I'm the one who's being unreasonable???"

"Well, yes! This is my job, after all, and I'm very good at it if I do say so myself!" Aziraphale frowned.

"Yeah, you're great at it, but you're running yourself ragged!" Crowley frowned; "you can't keep going at this rate!"

"I can, and I will!" Aziraphale glowered. "I … I am sick and tired of letting others tell me how I can and cannot use the powers God has granted me! I don't have to abide by Heaven's rules anymore, I can follow my own moral compass, and that's exactly what I intend to do!" Aziraphale was shaking.

Crowley sighed; "I can't watch you run yourself into the ground, Angel. When you're done exhausting yourself, give me a call."

He slammed the door behind him, leaving the angel alone in his shop. Aziraphale sighed and threw his coat on, heading out into the cold. He wandered through the crowds, letting his senses take over. He could sense the needs of the people around him, and with a deep breath he pushed out into the world, giving the people around him the miracles they needed.

Over the next few weeks, he started making miracles all over England. One day he pushed himself too hard, creating low level good will and joy around the world, but at a price. He gasped softly, shaking and barely able to keep standing. He could feel his aura grow heavy around him.

He shivered, snapping his fingers and got back home. He collapsed onto his bed, and despite not particularly enjoying it, he instantly fell into a deep sleep. A few hours passed and he shakily snapped his fingers … and nothing happened. He frowned, snapping again. Nothing still. He sighed and curled back up, sleeping for a full day before he woke back up.

Nearly a week of fitful sleep and failed miracles later, he groggily got out of bed, and made his way into the kitchen. He was so pale, and still didn't feel any better. That last miracle had definitely been too big… He shakily picked up the phone, calling the one person who might be able to help him.

"C- Crowley … you might have been right. I'm so tired, and I haven't been able to do even minor miracles all week … p- please, come home?"

In an instant, Crowley was by his side. He gently stroked Aziraphale's cheek, holding him close.

"I've got you, Angel. I'm here." Aziraphale clung to him, letting the demon lead him to the couch.

"Th- thank you."

Crowley helped him onto the couch and made him a cup of tea. The angel clung to him, shuddering, as he gently cupped his cheeks, transferring some of his energy to Aziraphale. The angel sighed softly, the color returning to his cheeks.

"Ah … how did you do that?" Aziraphale blinked slowly.

"Little demonic miracle. No big deal, Angel." Crowley kissed his forehead.

Aziraphale smiled softly and hugged him tightly. "Thank you darling. I feel so much better … Thank you for coming home to me."

"Any time, Angel.~" Crowley cupped his cheek and kissed him softly.


	17. Wonder

"Nanny! Nanny, can we go now?" Warlock grinned, bouncing in place.

"Put your coat on first, dearie." She smiled softly, stroking his hair.

Warlock grinned and ran for the mudroom, jumping to grab his coat. Nanny Ashtoreth chuckled and followed him, helping him into the jacket. She followed the boy as he ran out into the snow. The small boy was so exuberant, she had to nearly sprint to keep up.

"Warlock, dear, slow down!" She smiled softly, following the boy. "Get in the Bently, and be gentle with her!" She opened the door for him, grinning. 

The boy climbed inside, carefully buckling up. He loved when Nanny was allowed to take him on excursions; when they went out she let him get away with bending, sometimes downright breaking, the rules if he could argue his case well. She liked when he argued, and when he made choices for himself, and he liked arguing with her.

"Nanny, when we get there, I want to see Santa right away. I have a long list for him!"

Nanny drove down the road, into the countryside. "Oh? And what if he says you want too many things?"

"... He better not! I'm supposed to get everything I want. You said so. And I'll tell him as much!"

Nanny chuckled; "that's right, my darling little Hellion~"

Warlock grinned and looked out the window. He watched the scenery pass by, babbling excitedly about the things on his list. He indeed had a long list of demands this year. As they approached the little "village", Warlock grew more and more impatient. When Nanny Ashtoreth finally parked, he flew out of his seat and ran for the front entrance. 

"Warlock Dowling!" Nanny snapped her fingers twice, and gestured for him to return to her. He sighed and ran back over, taking her hand. The two walked up to the entrance, and Nanny bought their tickets.

True to his word, the first thing Warlock did once inside was get in line to meet Santa. They were amongst the first to arrive for the day, so his wait wasn't long, but by the time he was done talking to the man the line had accumulated quite the wait. Nanny bought two copies of his photograph from the girl dressed as an elf; one for Mrs. Dowling, and one for herself.

After talking to Santa, Warlock wanted hot chocolate, and cookies, and to watch the play. He curled up beside Nanny on the bench, watching happily. This had become a yearly tradition for them early on, and the short play was the same every year, but it never ceased to excite him. Nanny smiled softly, watching him mostly. She would never admit it, but she was rather attached to the boy. She wrapped a blanket around his shoulders, using a small miracle to keep his hot chocolate from going cold. She stroked his hair, delighting in his enthusiastic grin and his cheers at the end. The wonder and joy in his eyes always touched her heart. She couldn't help but hope he would think of her fondly, when the world was his. Maybe he'd even want to see her again.

They spent the afternoon going on rides, playing games, and eating Christmas treats. On their way out, they stopped at the gift shop and Warlock picked out a new ornament for his personal Christmas tree, as he had every year. They piled back into the Bently, Warlock barely keeping his eyes open. Before long he was dozing off, clutching his new ornament tightly. Back at the manor, she carried him into his bedroom, placing his ornament on his bedside table for him. She put one copy of his photograph on the fridge for Mrs. Dowling to find, and sat down to write a report for her bosses Downstairs. Once again, she couldn't help but wonder, what would the young antichrist think of her, after he found out who she really was. She couldn't imagine that he would be displeased, but she also had trouble imagining that she was as special to him as he was to her. She sighed softly, looking down at her copy of his photo, a small wistful smile on her face.


	18. Exhausted

December came, and he took the angel to pick out a tree. A simple miracle would keep it in perfect shape for the whole month, and the two spent the afternoon adorning the tree with so many baubles and lights it was barely recognizable as a tree when they were done. That weekend they went to the Ritz for a 'beginning of the season' dinner. Crowley made sure everything would be just right; Aziraphale's favorite wine, the meal was perfect, and the angel's chocolate souffle was delivered just as he finished his meal. The following week, Crowley took him to see the Nutcracker. Aziraphale even took out a new (or, newer at least) coat for the occasion. Later, they stopped to listen to carolers on the way home for a nightcap. Aziraphale let him lean against him as the demon dozed off that night.

The following week, presents began appearing under Aziraphale's tree. Crowley claimed not to know anything about them, but the angel knew better. He began setting out his presents as well, making sure Crowley could see his name clear as day on the packages. The pair made dozens of cookies, which Aziraphale wanted to send to their friends around the country. With a quick demonic miracle, the baskets appeared on the corresponding doorsteps. Aziraphale beamed at him, gently squeezing his hand.

Aziraphale had begged Crowley to let him teach him the gavotte for years. One morning, Aziraphale went downstairs to open the shop, but found Crowley waiting at the foot of the stairs. He snapped his fingers, and the music started to play.

"Let's get this over with.~" Crowley offered the angel his hand. Aziraphale nearly squealed, darting down to him, and began teaching the steps. By lunch the demon had it down, and by early evening he was even enjoying himself a bit - though he would never admit it. Aziraphale squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek, thanking him profusely. The demon flushed a bit, shrugging it off.

A few days later, Aziraphale knocked on the demon's door. He'd rarely been to the flat, he didn't know if he would be permitted to simply appear inside as the demon did at the shop. After a few moments, he knocked again, grinning. Crowley groggily opened the door, groaning softly.

"... Whatcha doing here, angel?"

Aziraphale smiled; "I just thought I'd bring you a little something. You've been so wonderful to me this month, I just wanted to do a little something for you." He held up a basket.

Crowley blinked slowly, nodding. He stepped back to let the angel inside. As Aziraphale stepped across the threshold, he realized the flat was much more disorganized than he'd ever seen it. Clothes were everywhere, wrapping paper was bunched up and strewn across the floor, empty cups were on every surface.

"Been busy, dearest?"

Crowley blinked a few more times; "Hm … oh!" He snapped his fingers, and almost all of it disappeared. "Sorry … yeah, been busy."

Aziraphale nodded. "You're absolutely exhausted, aren't you?!"

Crowley shrugged. "Been a busy couple of weeks … so what's this then?" He gestured at the basket in Aziraphale's hand.

"Ah! Well," the angel set the basket on a newly cleared counter; "first, a bottle of your favorite whiskey!" Aziraphale set it on the counter. "Then, a lovely set of silk pillow cases - I've heard they're very good for your hair!" He pulled out a pair of black silk cases. "And finally, that movie they made about your friend, Mr. Mercury." Aziraphale offered him the DVD.

Crowley smiled softly, taking it. "This is really nice, Angel … thank you."

Aziraphale grinned. "I had been thinking you might enjoy a nice night in. After all, you've been taking me out all month."

Crowley smiled and nodded. "Sounds great." He lead the angel to his room, where they curled up. Aziraphale poured the whiskey, and Crowley switched out his pillow cases for the new ones. They curled up to watch the movie, and before long the demon was asleep against Aziraphale's chest.


	19. Escape

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: brief mention of seasonal depression and suicide

Darkness surrounded him as he darted through the crowded halls. The stench was overwhelming, the bodies too close, and all his could think about was getting out, getting away. He was going to spend the next month in his flat, if he could just get out of here. He pressed against the wall, trying to scoot along it without being noticed. The crowd was shuffling in the other direction, growling and grunting. 

"Demon Crowley. You've been Above for a long time." Hastur's voice was a growl in Crowley's ear.

The ginger demon jumped slightly, turning to face him; "H- Hastur! Right, last time I saw you-"

"You drove me into a wall of fire. Indeed. Lucky for you, Lord Beelzebub has decided you are not to be attacked while you are here … they say this will be punishment enough for you. For now."

Crowley nodded, frowning. "Right… Well, best be off then … They'll want to see me…"

Hastur nodded curtly, glowering as the other demon slithered off. Crowley was desperate now. He had received his summons, and suspected, but now he knew. Lord Beezelbub had planned this specifically to punish him for the holy water incident. They couldn't be rid of him, they couldn't fire him, so they were going to torture him.

He tried to find the exit, but, as usual, if one of the Lords of Hell wanted you here, you were stuck until they were satisfied. He remembered a story of a low level demon who had gotten on the wrong side of one of the Dukes. He hadn't escaped until the Duke was done torturing him. Crowley hoped he could get lost in the crowd; Beelzebub didn't need to punish him themself, the whole situation would do that for them. He decided to try to hide in an empty room, but every room was full of demons. They must have filtered everyone onto this one level to make it so crowded. 

Flashing lights and an eardrum-shattering klaxon blared through the halls. It was almost here. The demons around him grunted, some almost enthusiastically. The bells began to jingling all around them as the crowd surged, filing into the throne room. Crowley was forced along by the growing horde of the damned. He winced, covering his ears. The voices around him were getting louder, and horrific music began to play. He groaned, redoubling his efforts to escape. He could hear Mariah Carrey's voice screaming at him from the throne room. Of course they had chosen to start the night with 'Santa Baby'.

"Demon Crowley, you've arrived. You will of course be participating in the Christmas karaoke contest." Dagon smirked.

"Oh, I don't-"

"Of course he will, there izzzz no question. All will participate."

"Beelzebub. Right .. Well, if you insist."

"I will see you on the stage momentarily then. First I must give the speech." The demon nodded once and made their way to the stage. 

A glass of water was thrust into Crowley's hand. He wrinkled his nose, muttering that there really ought to be some alcohol in Hell. As he grumbled to himself, Beelzebub went on and on.

"... And now it izzz Christmas time. A time of such greed and anger. Soon we will have more soulzzz for our Great Master. The seazzzonal suicides will be filtering in. But for now, we will indulge in a human custom: the corporate Christmas party. So please, suffer lots tonight. There will be many new soulzzz to process immediately after."

Crowley sighed, sipping his water. He glared at the cup; wishing it was whiskey. It was going to be a long night...


	20. Christmas Present

Past:

Crowley hated Christmas. The bosses insisted on recalling all demons to the home office, where they would have some subpar snacks, and the bosses would give long boring speeches. Worst of all, they gave awards, and he always won something for the atrocities humanity came up with. And the prizes were always some dumb certificate, and his picture on a wall somewhere he'd never see.

Similarly, Aziraphale had little interest in Christmastime. Upstairs had a big party, celebrating the splendor of paradise and the joy of their celestial existence. It was beautiful, but so dull. The angel had seen how humans rejoiced in this time of year, taking comfort and sharing their love. Upstairs was nothing but a shadow of that joy. So cold, and distant. There was no love between angels, only duty and respect.

Present:

Crowley and Aziraphale had enjoyed the past few Christmases together. Crowley curled up beside his best friend, sipping on a glass of wine. He stared at the tree in front of them, regarding each ornament carefully.

"You know, I don't think there's anything about this that isn't distinctly pagan. … aren't you naughty, displaying a pagan decoration in your own home!" He smirked.

Aziraphale scoffed; "The pagans may have started the tradition, but it was in reverence to the divine, as they understood Her. There's nothing wrong with their traditions. Besides, it's beautiful, isn't it?"

Crowley chuckled. "Yeah, it's great. Bet you're the only one Upstairs who can appreciate the pagans and their … more interesting traditions." He smirked, and the angel playfully smacked his shoulder.

"Hush, you … you fiend." The two leaned against each other, enjoying the safety and warmth they found in each other, on earth.

Crowley gently squeezed his hand, stroking his knuckles. "... Want to watch that movie you like so much? The one in black and white?"

Aziraphale grinned and snapped his fingers, firing up his ancient television. It's a Wonderful Life started, and a large bowl of popcorn and two hot cocoas appeared on the table. Crowley chuckled, setting aside his empty wine glass.

Aziraphale sighed happily as the movie ended. "This has been a lovely evening, darling."

Crowley smiled and kissed his cheek. "I'm glad you had fun."

The angel smiled softly; "... What do you think we'll be doing on Christmas in the future?"

"The future? … how far into the future?"

"Hmm … fifty years."

Crowley chuckled; "fifty years, huh? Well …"

Future:

The angel was enveloped in Crowley's arms, eyes covered by his long fingers. He couldn't stop grinning. Crowley had planned this trip himself, wanting to surprise the angel.

"Ok, Angel. Take a look." The hands slipped away, and Aziraphale blinked a few times. The angel gasled softly, giggling.

"Alpha Centauri … you did promise to show it to me some day. And it's beautiful."

Crowley smiled and kissed the top of his head. They were floating in empty space, hovering just outside the atmosphere of one of the planets. The demon lead his angel down to the surface to start their Christmas honeymoon.


	21. Winter

Crowley hates winter. It's cold, and dark, and it hurts. His body just isn't made for winter. It's better in human form, but even so, all his joints seize up when it snows. He can barely walk, barely even breathe.

Once, he went down to the Bahamas for the whole ordeal. That was alright for him. It was warm, and he could laze about in the sunshine. It had been a nice holiday. Until he got home, and found out Aziraphale had exhausted himself with so called "Christmas miracles".

Aziraphale gets so enthusiastic in the winter. He loves the good-will, and joy, and decorations, and sweets, and parties! If the demon isn't around, he always goes overboard making the holiday season perfect, he always gets sick. So every winter, Crowley finds himself trudging around an ice covered London, the cold and the wind seeping into his bones, all to keep Aziraphale out of trouble. 

He bundles up and steps out onto the street. Everything around him makes him wish he was still asleep. The snow fell only yesterday, it should be clean and pretty, but it's already turned to grey and brown sludge on the side of the road. He glowers at it. Even the kids don't want to touch it. Disgusting. Why can't it be spring already?

He kicks at the ice. Why the city can't shovel better, he has no idea. The only good thing about winter, as far as he's concerned, is how grumpy it makes everyone else too. Perfect breeding ground for sin. Rage especially. And so many want to stay inside, and boom! There's lust. Nice easy season for him.

He can see the shop in the distance. A beacon of hope; the one place he'll feel warm and safe inside. Aziraphale's natural warmth permeates the whole building, making the whole place feel like summer. He's already put up his string lights, and the store looks so inviting. Just a few more yards…

Oh, and there he is, in the window. He's rearranging books again. Silly Angel, always rearranging his books in a system that becomes less understandable with every reshelving. Crowley smiles softly, trying to force his legs to move faster.

Aziraphale looks up and beams, waving to the approaching demon. Crowley smiles and breaks into a full on run, throwing the door open.

"C- cold!" He throws himself into the angel's arms. Aziraphale grunts slightly, holding Crowley close. 

"Oh! I see! Very cold indeed." Aziraphale rubs the demon's shoulders to warm him up.

Crowley sighs softly, collapsing into the angel. This is nice. This is the only good thing about winter. In the winter, Aziraphale was much more open to cuddling. The pair curls up on the couch, the Angel holding the demon to his chest and radiating heat. Crowley hums to himself, feeling a bit drowsy. This part of winter, this small part right here, makes it all worth it.


	22. Miracle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heavily influenced by The M*A*S*H* episode "Death Takes a Holiday" (S9e5), which I highly recommend watching, and is available on Hulu.

Aziraphale hated war. He hated the pain, and the fear, and the anger, and the death. When humans felt the need to kill each other off, he usually chose to assume a position as a nurse or a doctor; he couldn't simply stand by and do nothing, despite what his bosses always said. Small miracles, and the trouble he got in for them, were no price compared to human lives.

During the first world war, he ran across battlefields, saving people left and right. Bombs would go off, miraculously missing entire battalions. Scouting parties would return, completely unscathed despite nearly being caught by Nazi soldiers. He evacuated families, healed soldiers, and manifested supplies. A literal guardian angel.

So, when the second one came up, he received a sternly worded letter from the Archangels, reminding him that he was not permitted to get involved. And yet, he found himself on the front lines as a field medic. He couldn't imagine that God would disapprove, and until he got word from Her, Herself, he would continue to do his part for his chosen country.

One night he found himself on the front lines with an injured man. He fell to his knees, wincing slightly as warm blood seeped into his trouser legs. He rested a hand on the man's chest as he wheezed for breath. A chest wound, and a bad one by the sounds of it. He used his angelic senses to reach into the man's chest, feeling for the main problem. A collapsed lung. He wrapped his energy around the lung, sucking the blood out and pushing it back into his veins. All was going well, at first.

Without so much as a warning, another being's energy tried to shove Aziraphale out of the chest. He gasped for breath, pushing back against it. The energy was dark and angry, pressing against him and letting blood seep back into the lung. Aziraphale assumed it must be some demon or another. Until a voice filled his head;

"You were warned." Gabriel's stern voice rang through his entire form - corporeal or otherwise. The sound was like liquid fire burning through his essence. The boss was enraged, and nothing on earth could protect him from the consequences this time.

Gabriel forced Aziraphale out, materializing across the man from the other angel. He stared at the man's face as he took short, wheezing breaths. Aziraphale felt like he was shattering over and over. He could help, he could fix it, if only Gabriel would leave.

"We could not have made ourselves more clear, Aziraphale. You will not interfere in this war."

Tears slipped down the blonde's cheeks and a broken whisper escaped him; "He has children … Christmas should be a time of joy, they shouldn't remember it as the day their father was taken from them. Please, Gabriel. Just let me keep him alive for a few hours. Just for tonight."

Gabriel trained his cold purple eyes on the other. He was expressionless, which just made him look all the more cruel to Aziraphale. With a flick of the wrist, Aziraphale was frozen in place, on his knees.

"No. You will stay, and you will watch. And he will die within the hour. Goodbye, Aziraphale." With a crack of lightning, Gabriel was gone, and Aziraphale was alone on the abandoned battlefield.

The only sound to fill his ears was the shaky breaths of the man dying in front of him, and his own sobs. Moments felt like hours as he watched the man's chest rise and fall. With each fall, he was terrified that it would be the last, but each time the man forced another breath into his collapsing lung.

"Angel, what are you doing? … are you stuck?" Crowley's voice cut through the quiet, bringing a sob of relief from the angel.

"Crowley! Crowley, please, you must help me. Gabriel … he- he won't let me interfere. Please, don't let him die! Just … not today. Please, Crowley. Not yet."

Crowley was shocked, watching his Angel begging for the life of this one human. Aziraphale had never begged for anything before. Without a moment's hesitation, he fell to his knees beside his friend, and got to work. With a simple demonic miracle, the lung re-expanded, and filled with air. The blood began flowing through his veins again, and his breathing returned to normal. With a snap, the man was in a hospital bed a few miles away, and Aziraphale was freed from Gabriel's hold.

The angel shakily rose to his feet, miracling the mud and blood off. "Th- thank you, my dear."

Crowley shrugged; "Sure. Anything you need, Angel."


	23. Sentiment

"Darling, what's all this?" Aziraphale looked at the boxes strewn around their living room.

Crowley popped out of a box grinning. "It's my Christmas boxes! Don't you have Christmas boxes?"

Aziraphale shook his head, holding in a laugh. "Maybe one, in the attic. A few ornaments and such … so what all is this?"

Crowley began pulling things out of the boxes. Ornaments, stockings, lights, even a little Christmas village with a train. Aziraphale giggled, sitting beside him. Crowley beamed, showing off his favorite buildings for the village.

"I didn't realize you had so much Christmas decor!" Aziraphale smiled; "we'll have to clear off the entertainment center for it all!"

Crowley grinned and jumped up. The pair began moving things around, and setting up the little town. Aziraphale carefully arranged tiny streetlights, and Crowley sprinkled fake snow around the buildings. They then moved on to hang lights around the shop, and Crowley hung their stockings.

The next day they went out for a tree. Crowley was far more selective than Aziraphale had expected. He finally selected one, and they brought it home. He spun it around in its tree stand until it was just so before he finally let Aziraphale tighten it down. They strung lights around the tree and began putting up ornaments. By the time they were down to their final box, the tree was covered in colorful bits and bobs. Crowley slid the box open and carefully unwrapped a glass ornament and carefully set it on the tree.

"Is that … is that a Roman aureus in that bauble?" Aziraphale raised an eyebrow.

Crowley nodded, hanging it carefully. "Yeah, why?"

"... No reason. And … is this the cufflinks I gave you?" Aziraphale flushed slightly, pulling out another bauble.

"Well … yeah."

Aziraphale giggled, pulling more ornaments out. All of them filled with mementos of bygone eras. Coins, photographs, shells, bits of glass and gears, small toys. Each ornament representing another date, event, or something special to the demon. Aziraphale grinned, watching Crowley put them up. 

"I never realized you held onto so many things …" The angel smiled, touching a little wooden figurine.

"Didn't you hold onto things? You have so many books, you didn't hold onto other things too?"

"Oh, well yes. But they just kind of sit around the shelves. I never thought to make ornaments out of them." He smiled; "I love that you did."

Crowley flushed and shrugged, putting his ancient angel tree topper on the tree. "It's nothing too special…"

"Yes, it is. It is to me."


	24. And to All a Good Night

"I'm still not completely sure of this…" Aziraphale frowned, staring at the large bed.

Crowley was sprawled out, grinning. "You'll like it, Angel. Just slip those on and sit down, yeah?"

Aziraphale held up the white satin pj shirt, running his thumb over the fabric. He picked up the pants and awkwardly shuffled into the bathroom to change. Crowley chuckled, watching him go. When he came back, Crowley whistled at him, smirking. The angel flushed brightly, tugging on the bottom of the shirt.

"O- oh, you just … hush!"

Crowley chuckled; "C'mere, Angel." He patted the bed; "sit."

Aziraphale slowly sank into the firm mattress. He kicked his feet up, laying on his back, his hands clasped over his stomach.

"Comfy?" Crowley smirked.

"I suppose this is rather nice, yes." The demon chuckled at that.

"Close your eyes, Angel." Aziraphale obliged, and Crowley gently placed a hand over the angel's. "Now sleep, Aziraphale. Give it a try."

As Crowley lay beside him, Aziraphale began to feel a bit drowsy. He didn't like it, the heavy sinking sort of feeling. He blinked slowly, unable to keep his eyes open for long. He wished he hadn't agreed to try this ridiculous experiment. But as he was about to open his mouth, to tell Crowley he'd changed his mind, he suddenly felt weightless.

He blinked, gasping softly. He was floating amongst the stars, their gravity acting like currents gently pushing him around the void. They felt right, somehow. The energy of them, it was like … it was like a certain demon, who had put so much of himself into them. They were warm and welcoming. Pure in a way the angel had never experienced before.

Aziraphale giggled gleefully, letting his celestial spirit expand outward. It enveloped entire galaxies, letting him feel everything that existed within them. He could see and feel and hear and smell everything in those stars. Each planet in those galaxies was his to explore, and he knew them all in an instant. It was beautiful, but so terribly quiet and lonely. It was the kind of quiet that echoes in your head and makes you wonder if there ever was anything else. If even you actually exist, or if everything you know is a mirage, and all that is real is that deafening silence.

He dwelt in that silence, paralyzed forever in it, until that instant passed and one particular planet called out to him. It was barely a whisper of a sound, cutting through the silence. He followed it, and found himself surrounded by voices, all of them whispering.

_"I'm here. I'm here, and I want to know. I want to go, to see. There's so much in the world, so much in the universe, and I want to see it all."_

The earth looked so small, under the angel's gaze. So small, bearing such fragile creatures. Fragile, but so strong. They survived their expulsion from paradise, and they made the earth theirs. He had no doubt that one day they would step foot on other planets, live under dozens of suns, always seeking more knowledge, more love, more light. Even now, they looked up at the stars -stars he now felt as part of his own body- and sought the divine in that lovely expanse of the unknown.

"Aziraphale. Aziraphale, wake up." A gentle hand on his shoulder pulled him back to the flat, and his own body. Crowley smiled softly; "So, your first sleep. How was it?"

Aziraphale blinked, a little groggy. "... I … I slept?"

Crowley chuckled; "Yes, Angel. You slept. Any dreams?"

Aziraphale sat up, contemplating what he'd seen. "Dreams … visions. Divine knowledge. … it was certainly something."


End file.
